


Small moments

by kiki_92



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Awkwardness, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Hugging, Insomnia, M/M, Sparring, no beta we die like (wo)men, they might have a crush on each other but god they are slow to work on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 06:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_92/pseuds/kiki_92
Summary: Snapshots about Fuze and Blitz's slowly developing relationship beyond mere coworkers





	Small moments

**Author's Note:**

> Someone said they shipped FlashBang (Fuze/Blitz), and after seeing there was no fic of them in here I felt I should correct that. Writing this two was an interesting challenge!

Fuze was moping. On any other occasion Blitz would hesitate to describe the fellow operator’s mood like that, but there was no other possible word for the current situation.

Sitting alone on the couch, with the TV on but clearly not paying much attention to it. And he was pouting. It was a surprisingly cute look on him, except for the plaster on his left arm and source of his current misery. Blitz had heard he got a serious cut on his forearm during a training exercise gone wrong, and he was laid off from active duty for what Fuze argued it was too much time. Doc had been relentless though, and Fuze remained on the base as the rest of the Spetsnaz team had been deployed.

Jäger had tried to distract him with a joint engineering project they had going on. Blitz knew that because Jäger had bitched endlessly about how Fuze stormed off in the middle of it, and only shut up when Blitz pointed out the Uzbek was probably having a hard time using the screwdrivers or whatever with his left hand instead of his right one. Blitz could only imagine his own frustration if he was on Fuze’s place, banned from field operations and unable to indulge in his main hobby and passion. He’d go mad. Blitz made a split second decision.

“It’s a fine day outside,” Blitz said to him with his usual cheer. “Want to come for a run?”

Fuze looked at him and blinked like he was surprised Blitz was talking to him. “Can’t train for a few days.”

Which was completely understandable, since from what Blitz had seen the Spetsnaz’ preferred way of training was trying to murder each other on the sparring mat. However this was something completely different from that.

“You don’t run with your arms, do you?” He pressed, wanting Fuze to agree. Blitz was sure some sunlight and working out his frustration with exercise would do him good. “It’s been some years since I was in athletic competitions, but from what I remember people usually use their legs to run.”

His stupid banter actually had Fuze’s mouth twitching in the ghost of a smile, so Blitz counted that as a victory. Moping was bad for morale. Not just Fuze’s, but everyone on the base. Dark moods were contagious.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try it.” The Uzbek’s voice was cautious, but he was looking less gloomy than just moments ago.

“Come on, it will be much better than running in full gear!”

In the end it was not that different from running alone, since the Uzbek wasn’t especially talkative, but the company was nice. The eyecandy was also nice. Those trousers Fuze had chosen to wear were doing wonders to showcase his ass, and Blitz would admit maybe staring discreetly at it once or twice.

Fuze seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to work out without straining his arm and when Blitz suggested a race back to the base in their final stretch of the run, Fuze agreed.  The Uzbek lost, of course, but he didn’t look too disappointed by that. He just gave Blitz a curt nod befobe going away. Blitz supposed that was as good as a thank you coming from him.

_ _ _

Pain blossomed in his gut and regret flashed in his mind. Why had he agreed to this? Training hadn’t been that painful for Blitz since he was a hot headed recruit.

After that first time they went running it became a fairly regular event, with Fuze always asking for a race at some point and Blitz outrunning him with ease. But by the next timt Fuze was already waiting for him, greeting Blitz with a simple “Let’s go.” Therefore, when the usually quiet man one day asked him if he wanted to join him in unarmed combat training, Blitz felt compelled to accept. Fuze was finally warming up to him! He was a fairly reclusive person, always in the company of his fellow Spetsnaz or tinkering on the workshop. Really, he was even worse than Jäger in that regard. So of course Blitz agreed, delighdel that Fuze wsnwan to spend more time with him. 

Blitz wasn’t so sure now. Perhaps he only wanted someone different to punch for a change. Did he even know the meaning of a friendly sparring? Geez, he was out of breath from that punch.

“I thought you were the best of your team.” Was Fuze taunting him? Fine, if he wanted to play rough he would get rough.

With renewed determination to get the upper hand in this blasted match, Blitz focused on fighting at his best. No more pulling punches as he did in friendly settings. He feinted to the side to avoid Fuze’s fist. The Uzbek easily blocked his kick to the ribs, and Blitz smashed his left fist into the opponent. His knuckles connected against flesh and bone, and Fuze stumbled back with a grunt. Satisfaction filled the German at finally making him lose balance like that, yet it warred with a surge of worry, hoping he hadn’t hurt the Uzbek much. Fuze laughed, a low and pleasant rumble.

“So you know how to fight for real.” No trace of bitterness at all, just a touch of admiration.

They continued fighting, brutal and hard. Bruises and sweat littered their bodies, and yet Blitz had to concede this was more satisfying than their earlier attempt at sparring.

Afterwards they both were bruised and grinning, and Fuze even clapped him in the back before saying goodbye and going separate ways. Blitz had the sudden thought that this was probably a rite of passage to gain the friendship of a Spetsnaz, crazy lot they were. But there was a warm feeling that settled in his stomach when he remembered Fuze smiling at him. That alone was worth all the bruises.

_ _ _

Sleep was stubbornly avoiding him. Blitz had spent the last two hours tossing and turning in his bed, fruitlessly trying to get some rest. All to no avail. Some nights the nightmares didn't wait for him to fall asleep and plagued his mind while he lay awake in the dark. It didn't happen often, but it happened. If you were stuck thinking about all the deaths you failed to prevent, of all your mistakes, then falling into Morpheus arms was nigh impossible. Although if he was being honest, he'd rather fall into someone else's arms. Better to not tread in that direction though.

With a tired sigh he got up from bed. If he wasn't sleeping there was no sense in wasting his time on bed, doing nothing. The base at night wasn't as quiet as one might have imagined. Jackal was a usual night wanderer, trying to find something to do to pass the time when his insomnia reared up. Echo and Jäger sometimes were so focused on their project that they forgot to sleep, staying on the workshop all night long, or until one of their team mates came to retrieve them. There were others like him too, those who suffered of occasional sleepless nights and came down in search of another soul to keep them company and chase away the lingering unease.

A faint noise was coming from the TV room, along with a dim flickering light. Fuze was lying on the couch, eating chocolate cookies and watching the TV with a frown of concentration. He bolted upright when he saw Blitz enter the room. He sat next to the Uzbek.

"Couldn't sleep either?" He asked Blitz in a whisper.

"You know how it is sometimes." Of course he did, he was down here after all. "Didn't know there were any cookies left."

"There weren't," Fuze confessed. "I baked them."

The answer surprised Blitz. Greatly. Fuze baked? The idea of Fuze quietly baking cookies in the middle of the night was endearing. He wished he could have seen it.

"But Kapkan always jokes about how you almost burnt down the kitchen and the food?"

"That only happened once!" Fuze defended himself. "And baking is different."

Blitz wanted to know more, ask him about what he liked to bake, how he learnt, and what happened the day he almost set the kitchen on fire. But he knew from experience Fuze's answers to extended questioning were rather vague, tending on monosyllabic. So he made a mental note to ask on separate occasions. Better to not pressure him now.

"Anything good?" He gestured to the screen, where a huge close up of an ant colony could be seen.

Fuze shrugged as all answer. Blitz could imagine there wasn’t much to choose from at these hours. He put his feet up on the couch, getting comfortable. The life of ants better be interesting, or boring enough to put him to sleep. Fuze wordlessly offered him one of the cookies, and Blitz took it. It was warm and delicious, and Blitz might have hummed in appreciation when he bit into it.

The cookies were finished in a record time, because Fuze kept offering him more and Blitz was too weak to refuse. The documentary was not riveting material in Blitz’s opinion, but the couch was comfy and Fuze’s was a warm, solid presence by his side.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he realized he had fallen asleep at some point. Fuze was reclining against him, one arm thrown carelessly over Blitz’s middle, and Blitz had his arm wrapped around the Uzbek’s shoulders. He had no idea how that happened, but it was a good development. The downside was he couldn’t move without waking Fuze, and thus alerting him of their current position. Well, he always preferred to make the best out of any situation. He reclined his head on top of Fuze’s and closed his eyes again.

Morning was an awkward affair, with them quietly disentangling from their sleepy embrace and Fuze studiously avoiding to look at him. In fact he bolted out of his presence at the first chance he got and Blitz told himself it was alright. However Fuze showed up as clockwork for their usual run, so perhaps everything was alright after all. Still friends, nothing happened, end of the story.

_ _ _

Except about a week later, Fuze surprised him again. Blitz was going to the gym when Fuze intercepted him in the middle of the corridor. He looked serious. More than it was usual for him. He was looking at Blitz with a determined expression not unlike the one he had while they were sparring.

“Dammit, did Bandit draw on my face again while I slept?”

Fuze did not react to his joke. “I need to be in the landing pad in twenty minutes.”

So he was getting deployed.  The images about the attack on Kafe Dostoyevsky were all over the news and it was no wonder part of the Spetsnaz would be on the team Rainbow was sending tomorrow.  Blitz expected this was Fuze’s way of saying he wasn’t joining him for sparring, but he lingered.

“When I come back,” Fuze continued speaking, looking slightly uncertain. “I don’t think I’ll sleep that night, so I’ll bake sweet samosas. My mother’s recipe. Would you like to join me?”

Blitz jumped to answer, no hesitation about it. “Yes! I mean, if you want help I’ll gladly do it.”

Fuze took a step forward and halted, hesitating. Then he covered the distance between them and hugged Blitz. As everything Fuze did, it was intense, focused and just slightly forceful. Blitz wrapped his arms around him too and held him like his life depended on it, loving every damn second he was allowed to hug the usually prickly man.

Everything was fine, he finally believed so.

**Author's Note:**

> Opinion time: should I write second part to it, about Fuze coming back hungry for more than samosas, cause absence does make the heart grow fonder? ;)


End file.
